


And Satisfaction Brought It Back

by pocketmumbles (livelikejack)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, Kira Is New To Town, Malia Has A Cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4692884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelikejack/pseuds/pocketmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a cat sitting on her porch.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>(Or, a human AU where Kira is new to town and Malia’s pet cat keeps showing up on her porch for dinner.)</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	And Satisfaction Brought It Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EllEli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllEli/gifts).



> Written for the Teen Wolf Femslash Exchange 2015. Huge thanks to [QuickLikeLight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight) for betaing! All mistakes are mine.
> 
> AU where everyone is human, not everyone knows each other, and Kira is newly moved to town. And Malia has a cat. Named Tater Tot.

There is a cat sitting on her porch. Kira pauses in the doorway, watching the orange-and-white cat stare up at her wind chimes with bright blue eyes. “Um,” Kira says. She closes the screen door behind her and steps out onto the porch. “Hello?”

The cat meows. Kira crouches down slowly, grinning as the cat steps closer to her outstretched hand. “You’re very friendly, aren’t you?” The cat meows again, then butts her knee with its head. Kira overbalances and falls back onto her butt, and the movement jostles a few strips of steak from the plate in her hand. She watches, mouth hanging open, as the cat darts forward and snaps up the steak. “You sneaky little kitty! You’re just after my dinner!”

The cat stares back at her, munching unapologetically on its stolen dinner. Kira sighs. “Oh, but you’re so cute, though.” She puts the plate behind the screen door and tucks her legs into a more comfortable position. The cat follows the plate’s movement, then crawls into her lap with a meow. “Nuh uh. No more steak for you.” She scratches the cat’s ears, grinning as it clambers over her knees and paws at the screen door. “You probably smelled it right through the screen door, huh? That’s why you came up here?”

She frowns at its bare neck. She could take it to Deaton, probably, see if it has a chip. “Where’d you come from, buddy?” she asks. The cat stands up, meows at her one last time, then leaps off the porch and disappears around the corner.

Kira sits back with a sigh. Well, this new town can’t be all that bad, she supposes. Not if there are random cats walking up to her door and stealing her dinner.

 

Malia looks up as a white-orange blur darts through the open window. “Well, hello there, Tater Tot,” she says, grinning down at her cat. “Where have you been all day?”

Tater Tot slinks past her hands and across the couch, butting his head against Derek’s shoulder. Derek automatically starts scratching behind his ears without looking up from his phone. “I still can’t believe you named him _Tater Tot_.”

“Thank Stiles for that.” Malia glides a hand down Tater Tot’s back. “Of course you’d disappear all day and come back just in time for dinner, you sneaky little kitty.” She blinks as Tater Tot curls up on the couch without so much as a sniff towards their plates on the coffee table. “Well, that’s weird. He always tries to eat your tuna noodle casserole.”

Derek picks up his plate and sits back slowly, watching Tater Tot with narrowed eyes. Tater Tot meows boredly at him, then settles back into his curled-up ball. “Huh. I guess he’s not hungry.”

“He’s been gone since breakfast,” Malia says. She wafts her own plate closer to Tater Tot, who sniffs at it before lying down to sleep. “Tater Tot, where did you _go?_ ”

“Somewhere that fed him, I guess,” Derek says. He reaches forward to start the movie. “Oh, don’t forget about next weekend.”

“What about next weekend?”

“We’re meeting Scott’s friend,” Derek says. “His old college roommate? The one who just moved here?”

“Oh, _that_ next weekend.” She offers a sliver of tuna to Tater Tot, who doesn’t stir. “Yeah, sure, I won’t forget fruit salad for the potluck.”

“Well, uh, next weekend is just the four of us.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, the welcome party’s not ‘till next next weekend. Erica had work stuff, Hayden had family stuff, Parrish had…stuff…so that weekend just worked a lot better for everyone.”

Derek reaches for the laptop, but Malia grabs his wrist. “Derek,” she says, “did you invite me to this because you’re afraid of getting third-wheeled by your own boyfriend?”

Derek’s eyes dart shiftily between her and the laptop screen. “No?” he tries.

Malia lets go of his wrist with a snort. “You do realize that Scott’s dating _you_ , right?”

“Only for four months,” Derek says. He leans closer on the couch, and Tater Tot wakes with a disgruntled meow. “He lived with _Kira_ for four years. They dated for two of them!”

“Dat _ed_ ,” Malia mutters while Derek works himself into a frenzy. “Past tense. They haven’t been together since they were teenagers.”

“But they’re _really good friends_ ,” Derek says. “If she hates me, Scott’s going to break up with me. And everyone hates me the first time they meet me.”

“That’s not tru…well.” Malia quickly nudges Tater Tot into Derek’s lap. “She’s not going to hate you. If Scott liked her enough to live with her for four years, then she’s probably really nice.”

Derek stares down at Tater Tot. “So you’ll go bowling with us next weekend?”

Malia sighs. “Yes, fine. I’ll go bowling with you and Scott and this Kira person next weekend.” She starts the movie and picks up her plate. “But just so you know, I’m going to completely humiliate you and not even feel bad about it. I’m really competitive when it comes to bowling.”

“I know.” Derek smiles up at her. “Thanks, Malia.”

“Hey, if I get to meet Kira early, then that means I get a leg up on being her favorite out of Scott’s friends.” Malia sits back with a shrug. “Plus, I wanna hear all of Scott’s embarrassing college stories. I’m hoping for at least one drunken meltdown in a bathtub.”

 

“So, you’re settling in okay?” Dad glances through the screen door into the house. “I can’t help but notice there’s still a lot of boxes here.”

“I just moved in a few weeks ago,” Kira says. She hands over his bibimbap and sits down on the porch with her own bowl. “I’m working on it.”

“Mm-hm.” Dad nods around a mouthful of rice. “So, have you gotten back in touch with that wonderful Scott McCall?”

“Dad.” Kira rolls her eyes. “We’re not getting back together. We’re really good friends, and I really want things to stay that way.” She lifts her chin. “In fact, actually, he’s introducing me to his boyfriend on Saturday. They’re going to show me around town a little bit, and then we’re going to go bowling.”

“Bowling,” Dad repeats, blinking. He shrugs. “Well, maybe they’ll bring along one of their single friends for you to meet.”

_“Dad.”_

“You’re twenty-four, Kira,” Dad says. “Twenty-five in four months. That’s practically thirty.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Kira sighs. “I just-” She pauses when something small and fuzzy bumps her leg, and looks down to see the same orange-and-white cat from a few days ago.

“What a handsome little guy,” Dad says, leaning down to grin at the cat. The cat saunters forward and peers up at him – and his bowl of food – with big blinking eyes. “Wow, the cats sure are friendly in this neighborhood.”

“Nah, just this one. It’s the second time he’s – or she’s – come by.” The cat turns when it hears her voice, sitting down in front of her and blinking up with expectant eyes. Kira tears off a tiny piece of egg and holds it out. “It always seems to know when I’m making dinner.”

“Smart fella,” Dad says, watching the cat eat the egg with dainty bites. He grins at Kira. “Maybe you could date the cat.”

_“Dad.”_

“Well, it’s not like you can _adopt_ the cat,” Dad says, gesturing at the blue ribbon tied around its neck. “It seems to like you a lot, though.”

“It just likes my food.”

“Well, the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach,” Dad says. “Or, in this case, their cat’s stomach. Maybe you’ll meet its owner one day.”

Kira shakes her head while Dad laughs. The cat looks up at the noise and meows reproachfully at him. “I really am okay, Dad.”

“I know,” Dad says. He watches Kira feed the cat a few grains of rice. “But I should warn you, it’s only a matter of time before Mom tries to set you up with one of Satomi’s grandkids.”

She looks up, eyes wide. “Dad.”

He holds up his hands. “They know not to rule out any gender?”

_“Dad.”_

 

“Hold _still_ , Tater Tot!”

Tater Tot slips out of her hands and skitters across the room to hide under Lydia’s skirt. Lydia tugs him out with a laugh and cradles him in her arms. “He really doesn’t want to wear that collar.”

“Well, he doesn’t get a choice anymore if he’s going to go wandering around the neighborhood every few days,” Malia says. She lunges across the carpet and finally manages to secure the leather around Tater Tot’s neck while he yowls. Lydia lets go, and he darts out of the room and through the cat door. Malia leans back against the coffee table with a sigh, then notices Lydia staring at her. “What?”

“You’ve been in a cranky mood ever since you got back from that double date with Scott’s college friend.”

“It wasn’t a double date,” Malia huffs. “I wasn’t even supposed to be there – and you know what? Next time I’m just going to blow Derek off. He can deal with his social awkwardness on his own.” Lydia tilts her head. _“What?”_

“That bad?” Lydia asks. She disappears into the kitchen and returns with a carton of cherry ice cream and two spoons. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” She jams a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and tries to talk around the immediate brain freeze. “You know, maybe she had a better sense of humor in college, or something, and now she just, like…like, I know when I’m being fake-smiled at, okay?”

“Okay.” Lydia nods and takes a tiny bite of ice cream. “So she…isn’t very friendly?”

“She’s _so_ friendly,” Malia grumbles. “Her and Scott were sunshine and puppies the whole time, and she even got Derek to smile, and…” She stabs her spoon into the carton. “She couldn’t stand being around me. I could tell.”

“Mmm.” Lydia nods noncommittally around her spoon.

“Exactly,” Malia says. “It was just so _awkward_ trying to talk to her, and she kept laughing at everything I said. Like, okay, I know I’m hilarious-”

“Positively witty,” Lydia puts in.

Malia nods. “But jeez, _patronizing_ much? If you don’t like me, just tell me, okay. You don’t have to pretend to like me.” She crams more ice cream into her mouth. “And, you know, she’s a total sore winner. Like, is it really necessary to do a dumb victory dance every time you get a strike? It’s just _bowling_.”

Lydia blinks. “Last time we went bowling, didn’t you full-body tackle Liam to the ground and roar in his face until he called you ‘the alpha bowler?’”

“What’s your point?”

Lydia blinks again. “Nothing,” she says after a moment. “Nothing at all. So she beat you, I take it?”

“She got lucky,” Malia says. “And, I mean, who wears tights with a skirt? She looked ridiculous in those bowling shoes.” She gnaws moodily on her spoon. “That’s not cute at all. Her stupid smile is stupid.”

“Of course.” Lydia pats her arm and pushes the half-empty carton closer to her. “Sure thing, Malia.”

 

“You really don’t have to throw a party for me,” Kira says.

“It’s not a party for you,” Scott insists. “It’s just a potluck with some friends I want you to meet that happens to coincide with you moving here. Sheer coincidence. It’s not like I’ve been planning it for months or anything.”

_“Scott.”_

He ducks his head with a sheepish grin. “I just want you to feel welcome here,” he says. He nudges her fox-shaped wind chimes with a finger, watching them sway in the faint breeze. “And I invited your coworkers, too, so it’s not like you won’t know anyone.”

Kira leans against the porch railing with a sigh. “You already knew Mason and Brett before I did. You know _everyone_ in Beacon Hills.”

“Well, it’s a small town,” Scott says, shrugging easily. “I promise, if it’s too much, you can leave anytime. You can leave as soon as you get there if you want.”

“I’m not going to leave as soon as I _get_ there,” Kira snorts. She pauses. “…How many people did you invite, again?”

“Just…some people,” Scott says, waving a vague hand. “Derek’ll be there, so you can just hang out with him the whole night and avoid everyone else if you want.”

Kira laughs. “Well, if _Derek_ will be there.”

“And, uh.” Scott jams his hands into his pockets, glancing sidelong at Kira. “Malia’ll be there, too.”

“Oh.” Her ears abruptly burn. “Malia. Cool. She’s – cool. Great.”

Scott bites his lip, eyes crinkling as he tries to hold back laughter. “I’d forgotten how cute you get when you have a crush on someone.”

“I don’t – shut up, Scott.” She crosses her arms, toeing the porch floor. “Was it that obvious?”

Scott stares at her for a long moment. “…Absolutely not,” he finally says, nodding solemnly. “Couldn’t even tell.”

_“Scott.”_

“Don’t forget, Saturday at eight!” Scott says cheerfully. He starts to step down from the porch, then pauses when he almost trips over a small bowl of cubed chicken breast. “What’s this?”

“Oh,” Kira says. “Um, there’s this cat that comes by around dinnertime a few times every week. He always bothers me for food, so I figured I’d be prepared this time.”

Scott smiles. “That’s really sweet of you. See, that’s why everyone’s going to love you here.”

Kira lets out a sigh. “I hope so.”

“Malia, too.”

_“Scott!”_

Scott skips down the steps and onto his motorcycle with a cackle. Kira huffs after him, waving as he drives away. Almost on cue, a familiar orange-and-white cat prances up the sidewalk and taps Kira’s foot with an expectant paw. “Well, hello there!” The cat walks past her and springs onto the porch, sniffing delicately at the bowl of chicken before digging in. Kira sits down next to it. “I see you’ve gotten a collar this time.”

The cat meows disdainfully before turning back to the bowl. Kira scratches his head with a soft laugh, then carefully shifts his collar to read the tag. “…Tater Tot.” The cat – Tater Tot – looks up, staring at her expectantly. Kira taps his nose, and he returns to the chicken with a snort. “That’s a really cute name.” She starts to let go of the tag, then notices the phone number printed under Tater Tot’s name.

She should call Tater Tot’s owner, right? To let them know where their cat went during the day? Let them know that he’s safe? She punches the number into her phone, then pauses.

But it’d be kind of weird, though, wouldn’t it? They obviously seem okay with their cat wandering off every day, since he keeps coming back…right? To just call them up out of the blue would be…kind of intrusive, right? What would she even say? Hi, your cat visits my house every few days, so…? Her thumb hovers between the call and delete buttons. Kira stares down at her phone, mouth twisting, and then looks up when Tater Tot lets out an aggravated yowl.

He’s sitting up, leaning back on his haunches while he stares cross-eyed at a stray piece of chicken stuck on his nose. His head tilts back while he tries unsuccessfully to secure the chicken with his tongue, and he meows in frustration. He glares at Kira when she laughs, then goes back to struggling with the chicken. Kira turns back to dithering over the phone number, then glances at Tater Tot as an idea occurs to her.

 

“You look awfully pleased with yourself,” Malia says, scratching Tater Tot under his chin. Her phone chimes with a text from an unknown number, and she opens it to see a picture of Tater Tot trying to lick what looks like a string of chicken from his nose. _Tater Tot says hello from his daytime guesthouse!_ the caption reads. _PS is it ok for him to eat chicken?_

Malia looks over at Tater Tot. “So this is what you’ve been up to when you disappear all day, huh?”

Tater Tot meows. Malia stands up, dislodging Tater Tot from her lap, and heads for the kitchen. “Come on, little Tot,” she calls. “We have a photoshoot to do.”

 

Kira’s phone trills with an incoming message from Tater Tot. She drops her mail onto the porch chair and opens the message to see a circle on a piece of paper filled with crayon-sketched chicken cutlets, eggs, and a crossed-out brown blob next to a tiny portrait of a cow saying, “MOO.” Tater Tot leans into frame, pawing fruitlessly at what looks like a boneless pork chop.

A meow echoes from the chair. Kira looks down to see Tater Tot batting her mail off the chair and curling up in its place with a soft purr. “Hey, don’t do that to my mail.” Tater Tot stares at her before settling down for a nap.

Kira shakes her head and turns back to her phone. _I think he likes your cooking better than mine_ , the caption reads. She laughs to herself and nudges Tater Tot towards the edge of the chair to make room for herself to sit down. “Whoever your owner is,” she tells him while he disgruntledly curls up next to her, “They sure have a great sense of humor.” Her grin abruptly fades, and she looks back down at the cat. “Tater Tot, how are we going to top this?”

Tater Tot lets out a loud snore.

 

Malia checks her phone and barks out a laugh. “What?” Stiles asks, glancing up from cramming half a hamburger into his mouth. Malia shows him the picture of Tater Tot fast asleep on a wicker chair, a finger with a twirly mustache drawn on it held in front of his nose. _I think it’s a good look on him_ , the caption reads. “Oh.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Malia echoes mockingly. She nudges him with her elbow. “Come on, that mustache is hilarious.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Stiles says. He swallows the rest of his hamburger. “Who is that?”

“I dunno. Someone around the neighborhood that Tater Tot visits a couple times a week.” Malia shrugs easily, then makes a face at Stiles’ wide-open mouth. “Stiles. I don’t want to see your chewed-up burger.”

Stiles shuts his mouth. “You _don’t know_ who’s sending you pictures of your cat?”

“Tater Tot can take care of himself,” Malia says. “He’s a Tate, after all. And besides, he has great taste in people.”

“Tater Tot loves _Isaac_ ,” Stiles says, making a face. “He has horrible taste in people.”

Malia rolls her eyes. “Well, if Tater Tot likes this person, then they can’t be all that bad.”

“They could be a serial killer.”

“Stiles.”

“I’m just saying, we could definitely get Danny to trace their phone and-”

_“Stiles.”_

He holds up his hands. “I’m just saying!”

 

“That was a lot of fun,” Kira says, handing Allison a fruit smoothie before sitting down with her own cup. “Thanks for offering to go running with me.”

“Anytime,” Allison says. “I’m always looking for a jogging buddy. Boyd likes running that route sometimes, but he’s busy a lot.”

“Well, it’s a really nice route. I’ve never seen that part of the Preserve before.” Kira shakes her head as she sets her glass down on the porch. “I tried jogging through there once, ended up totally lost. I had to call Cora to help me find my way back out.”

Allison laughs. “When I first moved here, I accidentally ended up at Cora’s _house_. Her mom thought it was hilarious.” She drinks her smoothie, and her eyes abruptly widen. “Whoa, this is so good. Are there cherries in this?”

“From the tree out front,” Kira says, nodding in front of them. “Whoever used to live here must’ve planted it. I’m just reaping the benefits.” Her phone trills, and she opens it to see a picture of Tater Tot…surrounded by a neat ring of tater tots. _The resemblance is uncanny_ , the caption reads. “Oh my god.”

“What is it?”

Kira looks up, cheeks heating. “Oh, it’s just…” She holds out her phone awkwardly. “One of my neighbors has a cat that comes by a lot, and there was a phone number on his collar, so we’ve been sending pictures of the cat back and forth.” She shrugs. “It’s kind of dumb, but…”

“Hey, that’s one way to get to know your neighbors,” Allison says. She hesitates, drinks the rest of her smoothie, then adds, “You know, if you like exploring the Preserve, Malia knows it pretty well, too. Just about as well as Cora and Derek.”

Kira sets their empty glasses on the table. “Yeah, but Cora and Derek actually like me.”

“Malia’s really a nice person,” Allison says, hands twisting nervously. “She just…she can come on a little strong sometimes.”

“Like last Saturday?”

Allison winces. “Yeah, she wasn’t at her best at the potluck,” she admits. “But really, she’s really not that bad.”

“I think she’s great,” Kira says, aiming for casual and just sounding pathetic instead. “I can just tell when someone doesn’t really get me.”

Allison fiddles with the sleeve of her jacket. “So…would it be okay if she came jogging with us next week?”

Kira sits back down. She doesn’t _not_ like Malia, of course not. If anything…it’s just a little embarrassing, how much she _wants_ Malia to like her. That’s all. It’s really not a big deal. She just has to stop being such a try-hard. “Sure,” she says, flashing Allison a grin. “Sounds like fun.”

 

“I know you’re not happy about this,” Malia says as she secures the backpack to Tater Tot’s back, “but dogs wear these all the time, and you’ve been eating Daytime Guesthouse’s food for the past month, so I think we need to return the favor.” She tightens one last strap and sits back. “So, how does he look?”

Braeden looks down at Tater Tot, who meows beseechingly up at her. “Sorry, buddy. I can’t help you.” Tater Tot’s eyes narrow, and he zips away out the door. Braeden turns back to Malia. “Daytime Guesthouse?” she asks.

“Well, I don’t know their name,” Malia says. “Actually, I don’t know anything about them. Well, I know they like red nail polish, because I saw their finger in the mustache picture, but…” Braeden raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re having a lot of fun with this, aren’t you?”

Malia shrugs. “It’s just a little bit of fun between neighbors,” she says. “Besides, you know how competitive I get, Braeden, if they send me a funny picture I _have_ to send a funnier one.”

“Of course,” Braeden says, nodding. “That completely explains the care package you didn’t even send them a picture of.”

“Why would I send a _picture_ of a care package?” Malia asks. “Then they wouldn’t actually get the care package. And it’s not a care package,” she adds quickly. “I just thought Tater Tot should bring his own food for once.”

“Right. That can of tuna you packed,” Braeden says. Malia nods. “…And strawberries from your garden.”

She shrugs. “Tater Tot likes strawberries.”

“Malia, you literally wrote, ‘Not for Tater Tots!!’ on the bag,” Braeden says. “You dotted the exclamation points with tiny doodle strawberries.”

Malia slumps a little. “They’re just really funny,” she says. “Whoever they are. Their pictures always make me smile, so I just wanted to…try to do the same for them.”

Braeden’s arm drops around her shoulders. “Well, if they don’t like your strawberry exclamation points, then there’s something wrong with them,” she says.

Her phone chimes with an incoming text. She opens it to see Tater Tot sitting on his empty backpack next to a half-eaten can of tuna. Behind him sits a whiteboard with “THANK YOU!” written in large block letters. A hand floats just barely on the edge of the frame, holding up a strawberry to dot the exclamation point.

Braeden laughs. “Lydia’s going to be so upset,” she says. “So many people she’s tried to set you up with, and you end up going for someone your cat picked out for you.”

“Shut up,” Malia says, shoving Braeden lightly. She grins down at the picture, though, at the barely-visible hand holding out a strawberry. Tater Tot stares into the camera, eyes half-closed in smug contentment as if to tell her, _You’re welcome_.

 

“Please promise me you’ll invite me over every time you bake too many muffins,” Mason says, sprawled out on Kira’s porch with a plateful of miniature muffins balanced on his stomach. He pops a banana nut muffin into his mouth with a groan. “These are _so good_.”

“Thanks,” Kira says with a laugh. She plucks a chocolate muffin from the plate and carefully peels away the liner. “I really should learn how to halve the recipes.”

“Or you could just feed me the extras,” Mason says, nodding seriously. “I will repay you in eggs and butter. And whatever else goes into muffins.” He squints at a blueberry muffin. “I’m pretty sure Malia grows some kind of berries in her garden. I can get her to donate to the cause.”

“Oh, well, um.” Kira fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “I wouldn’t want to – I mean.”

Mason’s eyebrows lift. “I thought you and Malia like each other now.”

“Yeah, I like her – I mean,” Kira says awkwardly. “She’s, um, she’s a nice person, and-” Her phone trills, and she quickly latches onto the distraction like a lifeline.

It’s a picture of Tater Tot sitting next to the miniature muffins that Kira had stuffed into his backpack. They’re arranged into half of a heart, with Tater Tot’s tail curled to make up the heart’s other half. _Less than three_ , the caption reads.

“That’s adorable,” Mason says, craning his head to look at the phone. He leans back with a sigh, holding the last chocolate muffin in front of his face. “Have you ever thought of meeting them?”

“Well, I mean, they have to live nearby,” Kira says. “I figure we’ll run into each other one day.”

The corner of his mouth quirks in a smile. “Worried they’re not going to live up to your expectations?”

“What – I don’t have _expectations_.”

“You baked them homemade mini muffins.”

“Regular-sized muffins wouldn’t fit in Tater Tot’s backpack,” Kira says. Mason stares at her. “Well, they started it!”

“I guess so,” Mason says, nodding. “It’s their cat, after all.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah.” Mason looks back at the phone, opens his mouth, then sighs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

 

“Ooh, that new zombie movie’s coming out on Friday, we should go see that.”

Scott drops down next to Malia on the couch, automatically reaching out to pet Tater Tot sprawled across her lap. “I don’t know. I’m kind of all zombied out right now. I swear every show on TV works them into their story nowadays.”

“Because zombies are _awesome_.”

Scott leans closer to her laptop and makes a face. “It’s in 3D?”

Malia nods, grinning excitedly. “You’re gonna get to see the brain matter flying into your _face_.”

“Sounds great,” Scott says, grimacing. He scrolls through the other showtimes, then looks up at Malia. “You know, Kira loves horror movies.”

“Oh, cool, let’s invite her, then.”

“I mean, she likes horror movies a lot more than I do,” Scott says. “Like, maybe you and Kira could go see the zombie movie this weekend, and then next weekend we could go see something else?”

“What?” Malia shakes her head quickly. “I can’t go to the movies with _just_ Kira. I mean…that’s going to the _movies_.”

Scott blinks. “It’s just the movies, Malia,” he says. “You’re just sitting in the dark and ignoring each other for two hours.”

“Yeah, but, I mean,” Malia says. “There’s waiting in line, and getting there early enough to get good seats, and then you’re just sitting in the theater waiting for the movie to start, and-”

“Oh my god.” Scott buries his face in his hands. “Please tell me you’re not asking me to go see a zombie movie I don’t even want to watch just to third wheel myself so you and Kira can pretend not to go on a date.”

“It’s not a date!” Malia squawks.

Scott sighs. “Not with that attitude it won’t be.”

Malia opens her mouth to retort, but her phone beeps. She opens it to see a picture of Tater Tot stretched out on a tree branch and batting at a cluster of ripe cherries. _I hope you like cherries jubilee_ , the caption reads. She blinks. “Cherries jubilee?”

“It’s a dessert, flambé cherry sauce over ice cream,” Scott says. “I learned a really great recipe for it in college, actually…” He trails off as he looks at Malia’s phone. “…Huh.”

“What?”

“Um.” Scott tilts his head, blinking down at the phone. “Do you know where Daytime Guesthouse lives?”

“Somewhere nearby, I guess.”

Scott nods. “And you’ve never tried to, um, meet them?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to go door to door asking people if they’ve ever met my weird cat,” Malia says. She squints at Scott’s hesitant expression. “Scott. You know where they live, don’t you?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Do you want to know?”

“Of course I do!” Malia jumps to her feet, abruptly dislodging Tater Tot. He climbs into Scott’s lap with a displeased yowl. “I mean. If Tater Tot likes them, then they can’t be that bad, right?”

“Right,” Scott says, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. He pets Tater Tot and leans closer to the phone. “Okay, so, obviously that’s a cherry tree. And you can see from the street background that it’s in a cul-de-sac.” He shrugs. “The only cherry tree in a cul-de-sac around here is on Lighthouse Court. 915 Lighthouse Court, I think.”

“Lighthouse Court,” Malia says. She sits back heavily in her chair. “That’s only a few blocks from here.”

Scott nods. “So now you know where they live.”

“Yeah.” Malia stares down at Tater Tot, fast asleep in Scott’s lap. “Yeah, now I do.”

 

“You didn’t bring your backpack today,” Kira says when Tater Tot climbs onto the porch. She sets down the bowl of cherries jubilee and sits on the porch, scratching under Tater Tot’s chin while he settles in her lap. “How am I going to send your owner cherries jubilee now?”

Tater Tot purrs. “That wasn’t helpful,” Kira says, then sighs as Tater Tot starts snoring. She picks up the cherries jubilee and holds it next to him, leaning back to take a picture. _I don’t think he’s impressed_ , she types, then sends the photo.

A phone pings. Kira jumps, nearly drops the bowl, then nearly drops it again when Tater Tot abruptly leaps out of her lap. She turns to see Malia stepping out from behind the cherry tree, staring wide-eyed back at her. “Oh, hi! I…didn’t know you knew where I lived.”

“Neither did I,” Malia says slowly.

Kira blinks at her completely nonsensical words. “Um.” Tater Tot leaps off the porch and makes a beeline for Malia, winding contentedly through her legs. “…Um.”

Malia holds out her phone. Kira looks down to see the photo that she had just sent. “ _You’re_ Daytime Guesthouse,” Malia says.

“And _you’re_ Tater Tot’s owner,” Kira says. She blinks down at the phone, then looks up with a grin. “So you _do_ think my jokes are funny. I knew it.”

Malia bursts into laughter. “No, I think your jokes are terrible.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Kira teases. “I know the truth now. You love me and my jokes.”

Malia’s laughter abruptly fades, cheeks reddening. Kira hastily replays her words in her head, opens her mouth to correct them, but – “Maybe a little,” Malia admits with a small smile.

“Maybe a little,” she repeats, smiling back at Malia. Tater Tot lets out a loud meow, and she turns to see him swatting at the porch table. “Oh! Um, I made cherries jubilee, and I was going to send some along with Tater Tot, but, um.” She picks up the dish. “Would you like to try some?”

Malia’s smile widens. “I love cherries jubilee.”

“Oh, you’ve had it before?”

“No.” Malia shakes her head. “But I know I’ll love it.”

Kira smiles. “I have some ice cream in my freezer,” she says, reaching behind her and pushing open the screen door. “Would you like to come in?”

Tater Tot runs through the open door immediately. Malia steps onto the porch and steadies the bowl in Kira’s hand, fingers brushing delicately over Kira’s wrist. “I’d love to.”


End file.
